


Iron and Clay

by Anonymous



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: F/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Rape (off-screen and not by Bankotsu), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26692711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "The only thing that matters in this world is power. I like you, so I want you to have it."
Relationships: Bankotsu (InuYasha)/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33
Collections: Anonymous





	Iron and Clay

**Author's Note:**

> **Characterization note:** I could only find Shichinintai episodes in English, so I based Bankotsu's characterization and speech patterns on the English dub. I can't remember if he's this ditzy or casual in the Japanese version... forgive me if he isn't!
> 
>  **Cultural/World-building note (actually important):** The reader is a fox spirit, and while I've based all their powers on real folklore about kitsune (and to a lesser extent, huli jing), they deviate from what fox demons are like in the actual series. This is necessitated by the kind of narrative I wanted to build about rape and consent. Also, I aged them down (by series rules they'd be at least 100 years old, but they're in their twenties here), and I aged Bankotsu up—this is to avoid any weird age gaps and underage sex.

_Never let a human steal your hoshi no tama_ , your mother had once warned you. _It is the source of your power, and you will be helpless without it. Clever men will even hold it hostage, dangle it as leverage over your head. You will have no choice but to become their little minion, forced to serve them while more or less powerless._

 _What about good men, Mother?_ you'd asked in reply.

 _Good men will not take it from you,_ she'd explained. _And worthy men will take it as a gift._

* * *

And _cruel_ men, it turns out, will simply turn you into a slave once they get ahold of it.

This is a thought you've had many times, chained up in this fine mansion, a plaything for the lord of the house. With the wards on these cuffs and your _hoshi no tama_ stolen, you are unable to use any of your demon tricks to escape. You can only lie here uselessly, wincing at how your wrists are raw from the iron. Opened over and over. Keloid scars.

Humans have done this to you: self-righteous, greedy, lecherous humans. Always salivating over you and your kind. According to their folklore, yours is a race of bewitching monsters, preying upon cruel men—but really, it is men who prey upon _you._

You look at your hair, splayed out on the floor beside you. Cloaked in your disguise, the strands are black and your eyes are dark, but despite this human face, they still treat you as subhuman. The woman servants do not intervene—they are simply glad it isn't them. The lady of the house does nothing, says this is a comeuppance for being a demon whore. The lord has no qualms with hurting human girls anyway, so your pitiful disguise does nothing to him.

You think about killing them all.

* * *

They are called the Shichinintai, and they have killed your captors.

They pillage the mansion, as mercenaries do. They come across you eventually: the daimyo's beautiful, piteous, _monstrous_ pet. You glance up at a man with pretty eyes and full lips, at the paint sliding down over cheeks. A curved sword is hoisted over his shoulder, but he does not use it on you. The closer he steps toward you, the stronger the scent of grave soil and clay become. They are laced into his very breath, layered with the scent of human blood.

"My, my," he says, "aren't you a mess?"

Your eyes narrow. Pulling back your lips, you allow him a glimpse at your fangs. He raises a brow, then turns back.

"Big brother!" he calls out, voice sing-song. "I found you a demon! Shall you add it to your head count?"

_Headcount._

The chains at your wrists jingle.

Another figure steps into the room, face in shadow, a halberd at his back. He's sizing you up. You're a fox, so you recognize predators. You've been abused, so you recognize monsters.

You bristle, baring your fangs again. He doesn't even blink. You probably look silly to him, tied up and weak and still trying to posture.

"Nah," the newcomer says after a moment. He sounds youthful, with a boyish voice. "What's the fun in killing someone so weak? I doubt she can put up any kind of fight."

"Huh." The first killer crouches down, studying you. "What do we do with it? Leave it?" He tilts his head. "Sell it? I'm sure there's a market." He hums. "Who knew that daimyo would be enough of a freak to have a demon pet?"

A long pause. You feel keen, interested eyes sliding over your body, taking in every curve and dip with leisure.

"We could keep her." 

The pretty one blinks.

" _Hah?_ Why?" 

"Well, you'd wanna keep Inuyasha around for a bit, wouldn't you? Why can't _I_ keep _this_ demon?"

The man closest to you seems dumbfounded.

"It's just… I don't remember the last time you were so interested in a woman, Bankotsu!" He whips his head around, studies you. "But even if that's not my inclination, I get it. You're a pretty thing, aren't you?"

_Pretty thing._

You're tired of being a pretty thing. 

The sabre wielder prods at your cuffs, no doubt seeing the Daoist script carved into them.

"What are you, exactly?" he asks.

"Fox demon," you rasp. Then, after a pause: "Half."

He blinks, and you're expecting judgment, but instead he asks:

"If you're a half-demon, how come you don't have the cute little ears?"

"..." 

Despite the situation, you have to suppress a laugh. Over a lifetime of derision, you've never heard a comment like this.

"Hiding them. Shapeshifting," you explain. The man nods.

"Right, of course… Well, if you're a fox spirit, that explains Bankotsu's interest." He tilts his head, seeming thoughtful. "If I liked women, I'm sure I'd be entranced by your magic too."

For some reason, you are compelled to keep talking. You try not to question why.

"I could shapeshift into my male form," you remark. 

His casual interest snaps into excitement.

" _Oh!_ I bet you'd be really cute as a boy! I've never been with a fox, you know..." 

The other figure clears his throat.

"...but I have to indulge my big bro. So I guess you're staying a woman." A heavy sigh. "What a shame. Well, up you get."

He pulls you up like a ragdoll. 

"I suggest you don't try anything funny," the other man—Bankotsu—says as his comrade fiddles with your cuffs. "We'll kill you if you do."

"I know."

The cuffs shatter, pressing against your scar tissue. The pretty man pushes you along, and obediently, you follow. Now that you're closer, you can see Bankotsu more clearly: broad shoulders, a long braid, a violet mark painted upon his forehead. Handsome, bright eyes, and contemplation etched into his features.

"You're really fine with this, huh?" he realizes.

You rub your wrists, nodding.

"They broke you in real bad," he guesses.

You shake your head.

"No." You stare into his gaze, calm. After a pause, you realize: "I just like you."

He chuckles.

" _Really?_ I don't hear that very often from my captives."

You shrug.

"You killed that bastard daimyo and all his bitch servants. So I like you."

* * *

His name is Bankotsu, and he is a strange man.

Though he took you in for your enchanting looks, a magic to which he is susceptible, he does not touch you for the longest time. Even though he likes to have you in his room, and even has you sleep in his _bed,_ you don't do much besides pouring him wine and replacing his candlelight with your pitiful, little fox flames. You've often wondered aloud, while staring at the ceiling of whichever camp or building you're in, why he even opts to keep you in here.

"As soon as you walk outside, it's like I have to keep an eye on every man but Jakotsu," he explains one day, when you ask. "Not just Renkotsu or Suikotsu—I've had to kill random farmers who decided to trespass for you!" A heavy sigh. "Can't you turn that thing off?"

" _Thing?"_

"Yeah! You know… the fox thing. Or I think it's a fox thing. Where you bewitch people. You know, the _thing_!" 

"..."

"Words aren't my strong suit," he brushes off. "But you know what I'm talking about. Can't you switch it off?"

His eyes sweep over you as he talks. Though his body is still relaxed, you can see his pupils blowing open, and his eyes are heavy upon your skin: filled with an involuntary lust, barely contained by his sheer force of will.

"It gets distracting for me too, y'know."

 _Distracting from what?_ you want to ask. _Polishing your halberd?_ But you only purse your lips and look away. 

"I don't know how," you mumble.

"Huh?"

"I don't know how!" Frustrated, you cross your arms. "I'm young, okay? I haven't figured it out yet." 

"Huh." Bankotsu leans back, looking thoughtful. "Young? You don't look young."

"I'm twenty-four."

He frowns.

"That's not young."

"Yes, it is. Twenty-four is like a baby to foxes."

"I died when I was twenty-two."

A pause.

"...then you died young." You feel a little strange, looking at this ghost. "You died while you were still a baby in fox years."

He shrugs. "I was a man in human years. And I killed plenty of men older than me before I croaked, too. I had a good run back then—and I'll have an even better one now."

You hum, allowing your body to sway down, falling onto his futon. 

"What will you do with your second life?"

"More of the same. Kill more people. Get as strong as I can."

That's a young person's answer, you suppose. A _human_ answer. Maybe some years ago, you'd have thought it terribly one-track minded: you'd led a carefree life back then, divorced from carnage, spoiled with security.

But nowadays, you understand it.

* * *

Bankotsu, you quickly realize, is a chatty person. You'd have imagined the leader of such an infamous mercenary group to be someone full of gravitas, intimidating and possibly stoic... but Bankotsu likes to talk, and though he quite likes to talk about himself, he seems even more interested in talking about _you_.

"So what was the deal with you and that daimyo?" he asks one night, cleaning off the blood from his halberd. "I take it you weren't friends."

You study your scars. 

"He liked how I look. Set a trap, caught me." A long pause. "If I were at full power, I would have just sapped his energy while he raped me."

He whistles. Sounding more impressed than disturbed, he remarks, "That's pretty cruel."

For some reason, you find yourself frowning.

" _You're_ cruel too."

His mouth lifts. He's handsome, you think. _Charming._

"Yeah? What makes you say that? All you do is stay at camp all day, so you barely know anything about me."

"You smell like blood whenever you come back," you inform him. "And you also smell _pleased_. You _like_ murder. It's thrilling for you."

"One of life's greatest pleasures," he says, voice almost musing.

"Fucking and killing, as they say." You turn to him now, no longer masking your curiosity. "Speaking of which—why haven't you fucked _me?_ " 

The question makes him blink.

"Well, you're not shy at all, huh?" For once, he puts down his sword, fully interested. "Let me guess: you wanna get the drop on me in bed, and sap me of my life force?"

You shake your head.

"Can't get life force from a dead man."

He pauses, actually looking _surprised._

"That's… a good point," he concedes. "Well, if that's not your play, why ask?"

"Just curious." You tilt your head. "Didn't you keep me because you wanted to force yourself on me? When I'm in this form, all human men do."

You stop, lip quirking up as you think of your first meeting with the Shichinintai.

"Or… most men, anyway. I'd have to switch it up for Jakotsu."

"I wouldn't, if I were you," Bankotsu advises. "You've seen him talk about Inuyasha, right? Not even _I_ can stop him when he's got his eye on someone…” You feel obsidian lingering on you, intent and oppressive. “...especially not if it’s someone like you.”

“But you can stop yourself?” You frown, pondering. It is rare for humans to exhibit so much self-control around you, particularly once they are aware of your true nature. But Bankotsu, for so long, has chosen to hold back. “...could it be that you don’t _actually_ want to bed me?”

“Do _you_ want me to?”

You blink.

“What?”

“I said, do _you_ want me to bed you?” He raises a brow. “I thought demons were supposed to have good hearing.”

“Pft. My hearing is fine, thanks,” you retort. But the wit dries quickly, and you find yourself looking down at your hands, at your clasped fingers and sharp claws. “It’s just that no one’s ever asked me that before, so… I thought I’d misheard.”

“ _Ever?_ ” And neither his expression or tone are particularly concerned, but you _do_ hear the pause in his breath.

You shrug. “Every human assumes that’s what a fox spirit would want. We’re awful, bewitching predators, after all.”

“Supposedly,” he replies. “You haven’t preyed much on me, though.”

Your lip quirks.

“Nope. It’s like I said—I like you. If you bed me, I want you to do it on your own. Or as much it can be, anyway—can’t turn this bewitching thing off, after all.”

“Huh.”

Bankotsu’s mouth upturns a bit into something that looks a bit like a smile. 

"Then, I'll get around to it eventually."

You feel his eyes on you again. When you glance at him, you're caught off-guard by his expression. You've never noticed it before, but he's looking at you in a way that no other human has—

—not possessed, but interested.

As usual, he falls asleep that night without any sort of touch. But long after his breathing has evened out, you feel a heavy arm draping over your waist. It settles there, almost sweet.

* * *

The days continue to pass with a routine that is nearly pleasant in how dull it is. During the day, you keep watch over camp, occupying yourself with whatever trinkets Bankotsu and Jakotsu have brought back from their conquests, hunting whatever demons trespass in the area. In the evening, you have dinner with anyone who has returned from their assigned missions; you serve them your cooking and listen to their chatter. At night, you either retreat into Bankotsu’s room with him, or you wait for his return—often while lounging in his bed. 

On one such night, Bankotsu comes home without asking for drink nor seeking banter. He simply disrobes and slips into the sheets with you, settling in without a word. He reeks of iron and clay, as always, but you turn and shift toward him, watching him as he closes his eyes. Even though he seems eager to rest, you start your usual evening exchange: 

"Smells like you killed people again."

"Yup," he replies, sounding cheerful even if tired. "It was a good day."

"Do any looting?"

"It was a decent haul. Oh—nearly forgot." He opens his eyes briefly to reach into a pocket, then holds out his hand. You grab the object sitting on his palm, surprised to see a pearly, white gem. It reminds you a little bit of your missing _hoshi no tama_ , and you feel something inside you softening. When you look back at him, you see that he's closed his eyes again, his head resting on the futon.

"This is for me?"

"Uh huh. Got some for abura-age for you too."

You haven't eaten any offerings in so long. You swallow, trying not to salivate.

"Keep this up, and I'll become your guardian spirit," you joke.

His lip quirks up. "Good. Maybe you'll finally earn your keep around here."

You roll your eyes. "I already do."

He cracks open an eye. "Do you? I don't recall bedding you yet." 

You hum.

"But that's not my only purpose here, right?" A pause. "Yeah, I think I've figured it out." 

"Figured what out?"

"You."

"Hmm?" Both eyes are open now. "Interesting. Go on."

"Your only purpose in life is to kill," you start. "You've got no family, and in terms of friends, you've only got your comrades, because what friends does a killer have except other killers?" A pause. "Though, out of all of them, it's only really Jakotsu who's your friend."

"How'd you figure that?" 

"Only Jakotsu is any fun to be around," you point out, and he laughs. 

"Well, you've got that right." He's got a bit of a smirk, maybe a smile on his face. "So what's that gotta do with _you?_ " 

"I'm company."

He lifts a brow.

"What makes you think I want your company? I only kept you because you're pretty to look at, remember?" He pauses, and even though his tone is still casual, and his expression is still easy, his gaze feels opaque now. "Because I want to force myself on you—you said it yourself."

"But you don't just look at me," you point out. "And instead of bedding me, you talk to me every night."

"Well, I don't see anyone _else_ here to talk to…"

"But that's just my point, isn't it? There's no one else but me."

You prop yourself up on your elbows. When you lean toward him, you don't bother wearing your human skin, your inhuman eyes glowing in the darkness. 

"I bet it's lonely being you."

"I'm not lonely," he shoots back. "I've got my comrades, and they're all I need." 

Then he pauses, as if considering. 

"Though you're right," he admits. "This business isn't for making friends."

You lie down again, cheek pressing against the pillow. His breath sweeps across your nose.

"Humans don't like killers," he continues. "But I guess a demon like you doesn't mind, huh?" 

You make a face. "Just because I'm a demon doesn't mean I don't have _principles_."

"So… you _do_ mind that I'm a mercenary?"

"Maybe I do. But I _don't_ mind that you killed that daimyo for me." 

He glances at something besides your face. Your wrists, you realize.

"I don't mind that I killed him either." 

"Bet you loved it. 'Killing's one of life's greatest pleasures,' right? Surprised you don't do it everyday, to be honest."

He snorts, then adopts a bit of a lopsided grin. "Well, I don't kill _purely_ for sport."

"No?"

"I kill for other people. Whoever hires me and my men, mostly. In the past, it was whatever lord needed some dirty work done. Right now, it's the demon who brought me back to life."

He reaches down. His fingers hold your wrist, and a thumb slides over the ridges of your scars.

"I can kill for you too, if you'd like."

The corner of your lips twitches up. You'd never thought that such cruel words—that such a cruel _man—_ could inspire this feeling in you, but your heart is featherlight.

* * *

Tonight is not like other nights. 

Bankotsu's veins are pumping with something vicious, and his eyes are dancing with something wild. The scent of blood is stronger than ever. You tilt your head, sitting up from the bed—not afraid, but certainly curious.

"Bankotsu?"

He approaches you, lowers himself onto the futon. Rather than lying down beside you, he grabs you by the shoulder—and pushes you down.

From anyone else, such an action would have earned them a huff and an eyeroll. But when Bankotsu does it, you giggle the whole way down, and when his lips press against your neck, you can't help but smile.

"This it?” you ask, voice lilting. “Will this finally be the night?" 

"Told you I'd get around to it." 

"Mm…" You spread your legs, hook one around his waist. Pulling him in closer, you allow his mouth to devour yours. Shockingly, the kiss is a bit clumsy.

You pull back, trying to hide a smile.

"Been a long time for you?" 

He returns to your neck. A hand pries at the folds of your yukata.

"Haven't bedded anyone since I got resurrected."

"Ah…" A sharp inhale when his hand reaches your chest. A finger skims over the peak of your breast, and something hard presses against your thigh. "What was your last time like?"

He pauses, expression sliding into concentration, as if trying to remember.

"It was bad, I think."

His hands keep working at your yukata, sliding it open now. He kisses your pulse, following it downward to the spot above your heart.

"How bad?"

"Terrible." His fingers pull away the cloth hiding your breasts, leaving them bare to the ghostly light of fox fire. Bankotsu’s lips press against your skin, his mouth hungry and wet upon your exposed body. "It was with some servant girl,” he continues, even as you shiver, “from the castle that was owned by a lord we killed. She knew what I'd done. She seemed willing, but her heart wasn't in it." 

You drag your hands down his torso, feeling the hard muscle.

"I can't believe that," you tease. "Was she blind?"

"Just scared, probably," he drawls. "Being a killer doesn't score me points with women, normally."

His hand settles between your legs. You hear his breath hitch when his fingers inch higher and higher. A fingertip kisses the inside of your thighs before it begins to tease you, sliding delicately along your opening and drawing a breathy moan out of your lips. 

"Well, luckily for you, I don't care," you somehow manage.

"I thought you had principles?" 

"Sure. And my principle is—"

A sigh. His fingers are sliding into you, patiently stretching you out.

"—is that I'd like anyone who'd kill for me. It's—ooh…"

It's almost romantic, you want to say. It's maybe the highest expression of love for someone like him. But he's sliding inside you now, and even so wet and so eager, you are breathless at the way he's stretching you out, all the words crumbling onto a moan. Your claws dig at his still-clothed back, and he grunts at their sharp slide—but he doesn't complain, just presses his mouth to your neck, moving his hips again.

Funny that out of all the men in this world, from the esteemed lord who'd enslaved you to the holy man who'd helped him, it is Bankotsu's touch that feels most divine.

* * *

"I have something for you," he says one night, while his arm is thrown lazily over your naked body.

"Hmm?"

You crack your eyes open, watching him sit up and rifle through his clothes. As he searches, you force your body away from the sheets, shuffling toward him so that you can press your front against his back. Kissing his shoulder, you stare at his fingers as he searches. 

"Here it is," he announces, pulling out a large, white pearl—

And you freeze.

It is your _hoshi no tama._

It is the power that was ripped away from you by that monk.

It is the power that was hidden from you by that daimyo.

It is your most prized possession, the completion of your being.

Bankotsu's hand is gentle when he places the pearl into your trembling palm. The ball glitters against your skin, and you feel warmth spreading from his fingertips to your heart. No, not just warmth— _agency, freedom, life._

"You've been looking for it?"

He nods.

"Why?"

A shrug. 

"Why not? I felt like it, so I did it."

You bring it close to your chest, pressing it against your skin. Perhaps he feels uncomfortable beneath your wide, shocked gaze, because he looks away. 

"The only thing that matters in this world is power," he says, voice low. "I like you, so I want you to have power."

You stay quiet, just waiting.

"Sometimes, I think about how you looked back when we found you… how you’d so obviously been trapped and used." His jaw tightens. "Well, I was trapped once too. I don't want to see that fate befall you."

Leaning into him, you rest your head on his shoulder.

"You’ve been trapped?" you asked, voice soft.

A nod, slight but firm. He stares at the floor. "The lords who used to hire us thought we were too powerful. One of their generals lured us into a trap—slaughtered us all." Bankotsu's eyes slide over to you, hard as steel and beautiful as jade.

"The only thing that matters in this world is power," he repeats. "I like you, so I want you to have it."

The scent of clay is usually so sharp, so pleasant on him—but now, it seems like a curse. You try to imagine his last moments: the great leader of the Shichinintai, riddled with arrows and blades. He must have felt powerless. He must have felt _helpless_. 

Humans are so cruel, you think.

Your hand reaches for his, and with a featherlight touch, his fist loosens. When his fingers break apart, you slip your power into his palm.

"Keep it," you whisper.

He stares.

"Why? You need this, don't you? To keep your demonic abilities."

You kiss his neck.

"If it's bestowed, my abilities will be fine—and I get to use them to protect whoever has it." You smile into his unnatural pulse. "The only thing that matters in this world is power. I like you, so I want you to have mine."

He turns to you, and his fingers drift along your cheek. Down your jawline. Over your lips.

"You're not worried what I'd do with it?"

A little smile.

"I know you wouldn't betray me."

He leans in, his eyes half-closed.

"I won't. I promise you that."

You kiss him, this monster with a divine touch. You kiss him, this mercenary who would kill for you, longing only for your companionship in return. You kiss him, this man with loyalty and desire borne not of compulsion, but of choice.

A cruel man. A _worthy_ man.

As you press your lips into his vow, you notice that you smell of iron and clay.

**Author's Note:**

> Bankotsu was interesting to write a romance for, because he prioritizes power and killing so much in the series—but he also prioritizes loyalty to his comrades, so I tried to tap into that haha. Hope I achieved a believable dynamic.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think! :)
> 
> P.S. I left things open-ended, but I am a sucker for happy endings, so I'd personally like to believe that Bankotsu with a guardian fox spirit might have survived the final fight with Inuyasha and gone on to have a life with our protag. Of course, such an outcome would be against the odds, so feel free to imagine differently ahah.


End file.
